


another one of those days

by aslanjades



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 21:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18978646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslanjades/pseuds/aslanjades
Summary: He knew that by the time they were done with the game they played, it wouldn’t matter. The first time it happened, they had been discussing how long they both had went without a kiss that was nice for Ash and a kiss at all for Shorter. Soon after, they found themselves kissing each other to fill the emptiness. It was nice, and it was a kiss.That was the end of it.Shorter may have feelings for Ash, but Ash isn’t ready for romance. So he takes what he can get.





	another one of those days

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i never write shorash, so this was a journey. this oneshot was half based off this art [https://twitter.com/nakimooshi/status/1131923604327690240?s=21](url) and half a product of my desire to wound anyone who chooses to read my work. enjoy!

ASH AND SHORTER WERE BEST FRIENDS, and they had been since the day they met in juvenile. 

Actually, scratch that; Ash wanted to nothing with Shorter at first. But they latched onto each other quickly, for they were two lost souls in a world where not being grounded by another was fatal. They were two lost souls, but they were bonded by the common thread of being adrift, so they found a sense of direction in each other.

Something about them, as unlikely a pairing Shorter’s unyielding humor and purple hair and the loaded silence Ash would often dish out were, worked. And so their stagnance was replaced with promising forward motion. Together.

Ash and Shorter were best friends, so when Ash texted Shorter asking him to come over, he was eager to go to him. But he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why his stomach behaved the way it did, contracting so slightly, or why his began to beat a little faster when he read the message.

He stood outside of where Ash had decided to reside as of late—a small bunker-like flat. It wasn’t the best looking thing or the most spacious thing, but it was safe, for one, and Ash never had any complaints. It was his own, and after hearing what he had to say about the mansion of the man who did unspeakable things to him (unspeakable because he quite literally refused to speak of it most times, which was understandable, and because Shorter knew they were no good by the way Ash’s voice went a little quieter and his face went more solemn when he did speak of it), Shorter was sure that alone was enough.

Shorter raised his hand to knock, and after the first, before he could knock out the rhythm of the song they selected so long ago to indicate each other’s presence, a shout emerged from the inside, informing, “It’s open.”

Shorter curiously hummed. Ash was one of the most hated teenagers in the city, yet he was unphased enough by it to leave the door to his home open to any potential threat. Granted, it probably hadn’t been open for long since Ash knew how long it typically took Shorter to arrive, but the thought of his friend being even slightly nonchalant about a matter as important as his life still made Shorter uneasy.

He entered nonetheless, walking into the sight of Ash hanging upside down from his bed with a Rubik’s cube in hand. Blonde hair almost reaching the floor a few inches below his head and jade eyes focused on the object before him, his fingers skillfully shifted to adjust the colored rows. His white tee was raised enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach below his belly button, something that wasn’t scandalous at all but managed to make Shorter look away.

He could only hope his cheeks hadn’t reddened as well.

“Hey,” Ash muttered.

“What’s up?” Shorter asked, mind going from the thought of Ash and every miniscule detail about him to acting as natural as he could. He took up a vertical lying position on Ash’s bed, putting his hands behind his head and shutting his eyes behind his sunglasses as he relaxed.

Ash’s hands noticeably halted. “Get your dirty ass shoes off my bed.”

Shorter’s eyes snapped open. He sat up with his lips parted and eyebrows raised, his shocked expression amplifying once he saw that Ash was still wearing those worn down red converse he was so attached to. Apparently, the rule didn’t apply to him and the shoes he hardly washed. “Seriously?”

When Ash didn’t reply or move, Shorter stood and moved to sit next to Ash with his feet planted on the ground, grumbling, “These are new, anyway.”

Ash went back to playing with the Rubik’s cube, to tossing colors back and forth to solve the enigma, and Shorter went back to trying his hardest not to look at the exposed skin of Ash’s stomach.

“So,” the latter breathed, “how was your day?”

“Shit.”

Every now and then, Ash had days when he wasn’t feeling well but wanted—no, _needed_ —to be in someone else’s company because being alone was too much to bear. Shorter was almost always there to provide his presence for comfort, so he was starting to understand what those days looked like. He wasn’t exactly sure of whether this was an example or not, but he was having his suspicions.

Having had enough with the cube, Ash tossed the unfinished puzzle onto his bed and pulled himself into a sitting position. When strands of blonde hair fell into his face, he blew them away, the new distance between him and Shorter being so small that the latter could feel the warm breath on his skin. In that moment, the thought of whether Ash was having one of those days left Shorter’s mind completely, being replaced with lustful thoughts of _Ash, Ash, Ash._

Ash was his best friend, but he still had feelings for him that he knew were wrong. He still had all-consuming thoughts of him that he found so shameful that he couldn’t even look him in the eyes sometimes.

Shorter couldn’t resist. He looked at Ash’s lips for a split second then looked away, only hoping that Ash hadn’t noticed. So long he had deprived himself of the sight, but one glance couldn’t hurt, right?

“Shorter.” At the sound of his name, Shorter stopped staring at the bricks on the wall and looked into Ash’s eyes, falling and falling down that rabbit hole again despite knowing that he absolutely shouldn’t. Again, he looked at Ash’s lips then trailed his eyes upward, the motion so unintentionally slow and telling. 

Ash rolled his eyes at the suggestiveness of the movement but lack of action, taking it upon himself to lean forward and bring his lips closer to Shorter’s. It was an invitation, one that Shorter, throwing caution to the wind, accepted by closing the remaining distance between them.

He knew that by the time they were done with the game they played, it wouldn’t matter. The first time it happened, they had been discussing how long they both had went without a kiss that was nice for Ash and a kiss at all for Shorter. Soon after, they found themselves kissing each other to fill the emptiness. It was nice, and it was a kiss. 

That was the end of it. 

Ever since, they had been falling together when they needed the intimacy. Ever since, Shorter had been taking the scraps he could get to somewhat fulfill his desires. Genuine fulfillment was impossible, because Ash saw him how he should have seen Ash. As a friend and nothing more than that.

When Ash broke away and stood, Shorter was afraid that it was already over. But Ash grabbed his hand and pulled him up, connecting their lips once more the moment Shorter stood upright in front of him. Ash brought his hands up to cup Shorter’s face, but when Shorter tried to do the same, he felt . . . wetness beneath his thumbs.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled away. Ash stared at the wooden floor beneath their feet, eyes welling with tears that spilled over but were instantly wiped away.

It _was_ one of those days.

“Hey, hey,” Shorter walked forward to comfort the smaller boy somehow, but Ash turned his back on him. Perhaps he felt embarrassed, Shorter thought, but there was nothing to be ashamed of. Not his tears, and definitely not the red nail indents on the back of his arms. “We can talk about it.”

“I’m so tired of talking,” Ash uttered, voice low and unsteady. “They always want me to talk, Shorter. You know what the asshole told me today? That we should do it again sometime, but I should be louder. I don’t want to talk. I’m done talking. It’s not like anyone hears me or gives a damn about what I have to say anyway—”

“You know it’s not like that, Ash. Not with me.” At the lack of a response, Shorter’s tone got more insistent. “God, Ash, I want to help—“

“Nothing helps! I want to feel good or at least less disgusting, but even that . . . ” Ash didn’t say it, but Shorter could figure it out. It wasn’t enough. And Shorter wished that he could make something, anything, be enough to alleviate Ash’s deep-rooted pain, but that was far out of his power. All he could do was helplessly watch with a heavy heart as his friend ached.

“Can you go?” With slow steps, Ash made his way to his bed. Tears still streaming down his face, he curled up by himself. There, laying on his own, he looked so heartbreakingly alone. Weakly, he begged, “Just leave. Please.”

Shorter had told Ash before that he never needed to apologize for having hard days, but the silence that fell in the room sounded an awful lot like _I’m sorry_. For dragging him there only to end up kicking him out. For being so uncertain about what he wanted. And though he hadn’t said it, Shorter forgave him; how could he not? Ash hadn’t even done anything wrong. If anything, Shorter felt that he should have been the one apologizing for being too caught up in what he wanted to tell that Ash was hurting.

Ash and Shorter were best friends, so of course Shorter wanted nothing more than to be there for him. But he also knew when it was better to leave. 

Even if the love he had for his friend was pulling him back.


End file.
